


Night out, ride home

by I_Am_Many



Series: A Slice of Stucky [2]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Jew!Bucky, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 05:35:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6361525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Am_Many/pseuds/I_Am_Many
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve remembers a particular night of his pre-serum life.<br/>"It was before Captain America. Before the Winter Soldier. Before the war and all the horrors it brought. Some might even say it was a happier time. I’m not certain I completely agree with that, but this particular memory sure is part of my happy ones."</p><p>(Pre-NATWW)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night out, ride home

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Not all those who wander...](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7421368) by [I_Am_Many](https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Am_Many/pseuds/I_Am_Many). 



> This is my very first Stucky writing, and also the first writing I have made public in YEARS. So… yeah… any kudos and/or comments welcomed (SPECIALLY COMMENTS).  
> And here is it's "sequel" or counter-part, "So far, yet so close": http://archiveofourown.org/works/6414316
> 
> This is a pre-serum Steve head canon one shot, that also mentions the Jew!Bucky head canon. If you don’t understand some of the slang, I’ve made a small glossary in the end notes.
> 
> Dialogues will be in bold.

It was before Captain America. Before the Winter Soldier. Before we were at war and all the horrors it brought us. Some might even say it was a happier time. I’m not certain I completely agree with that, but this particular memory sure is part of my happy ones.

Bucky and I had just started living together, which was a blessing as my condition got worse after my mother’s death. He was here to take care of me, even making me smile and laugh when I had the strength.

“ **I’m home! Feeling better today champ?** ” he asked while walking to the bathroom. We shared a small apartment in Brooklyn, just big enough for the two of us: one bathroom, one bedroom with a single bed, plus a squeaky sofa bed in the space that served as living-room/kitchen.

Bucky had insisted I took the “real” bed when I got sick, so I answered from the bedroom:

“ **-Yes, I think so. I mean, I can talk without coughing every two minutes so that’s a good sign!**

**-Good, because I’m getting tired of bringing you food to bed, I’m not a housewife!**

**-Oh yeah, cause the highlight of my day sure is eating your joke of a soup, jerk!**

**-yeah yeah, whatever!** ” He answered, laughing, and I heard him running water in our minuscule bathroom sink.

“ **Anyway, if you’re feeling better, I’m taking you out with me! Remember Leslie from the diner?**

 **-Vaguely yes.”** I got up and joined him in the bathroom where he had half his face still covered in shaving cream and a towel around his neck.

**“I told her I’d take her dancing tonight, and I’m taking you too.**

**-Oh, I… I don’t know Bucky…**

**-Com’ on pal! It’ll be swell, and I told her to bring a friend along. I know you Steven Grant Rogers, you’d never disapoint a dame.**

**-So you’re blackmailing into going. That’s low Buck.**

**-Oh, you’ll have fun, and I’m sure she’ll like a scrawny asthmatic punk like you!**

**-Hey!** ” I vaguely tried to look offended but, from Bucky’s crooked eyebrows and mocking smile, I must have failed miserably.

“ **Just go find something wearable and put your best stompers on. Oh, and try to eat something, I don’t want you passing out on me, you’re already a dead hoofer as it is.**

**-You’re a real charmer, you know that?**

**-I know a few dolls who’d agree.** ” I smirked then went to the kitchen, made myself two hen fruits with a cup of joe to get as pumped up as possible, then went to get dressed.

About an hour later we were both ready:

“ **Well, aren’t you all ritzy! That Leslie gal is gonna be all over you.**

 **-Thanks pal, you're not so bad yourself!** ” Bucky answered, shoving me in the shoulder playfully.

I looked doggy, like a wire wearing a badly adjusted suit compared to Bucky. He was freshly shaved, his jet hair slicked back and had that sparkle in his eyes, the one that appeared when he knew it was time to have some fun.

“ **Let’s jolly up then!** ” he said, and grabbed me by the shoulders to get out the door.

 

The joint wasn’t too far from our place, which was a good thing as we couldn’t afford a tin can and only had a bike with some newspaper strapped to the rear rack as a passenger seat. Not the most glamorous, but hey, I used to put newspaper in my shoes when I was a kid, so seating on some wasn’t that big of a deal.

Leslie was waiting next to the front door, without a friend in sight. But who was I kidding: me? Pick up a girl? Not happening. I wasn’t in the mood anyway.

Buck approached her and started sweet talking the second he took her hand.

“ **Hey angel face! How’s a pretty doll like you all alone out here?** ” She blushed, as would any girl when coming so close to James Buchanan Barnes’ charm. I called it "the Bucky effect", and nobody could resist it. She answered, a bit shy:

“ **-Oh, I was hoping a fine gentleman would take me dancing.**

**-Then you’re in luck! But didn’t you ask your friend to come along? My buddy, Steve…**

**-Good evening miss, nice to meet you.**

**-Good evening.**

**-He’s so polite it’s actually cute! Anyway, I told him he wouldn’t have to stay all alone.**

**-Sorry, Dorothy is sick, she couldn’t come.**

**-That’s fine.**

**-You sure buddy?** ” asked Bucky, a slightly worried expression on his face.

“ **-Yes Buck, really, it’s just fine.**

 **-Let’s get in then!** ”

We entered and went to find a table, but I very quickly made my escape to the bar and ordered a beer while Buck took Leslie jiving on the dance floor. Looking at him, I realized how bad a dancer I was, which kinda made me laugh and kinda made me wanna throw myself from the Brooklyn Bridge. After a while she went back to her seat and he came toward me:

“ **Look at her gams!** ” Bucky said, elbowing me.

“ **-yeah… she’s a looker…** ” He asked the bartender for some more giggle juice, then looked at me:

“ **-Are you… hey champ, are you ok?**

 **-yes, I’m just a bit tired** ” I answered, letting out a sigh before realizing it wasn’t the most convincing thing to do.

“ **Come on, go dance! Ask Leslie, I’m sure she’d say yes.**

**-I don’t know Bucky…**

**-Ok, let me handle it!**

**-No, don’t!** ” But he had already left, taking his whiskey with him to the table.

I saw him talking with Leslie, surely trying to convince her to give me a chance at dancing. However, it suddenly looked like they were arguing. I knew Bucky, and he wasn’t the type to argue with a dame, so this was a strange sight. It escalated quickly until she got up and left, giving me an evil glance on her way out. Buck walked back to me, looking mad.

“ **What happened??**

**-Nothing**

**-Bucky, what happened?**

**-She just… said some stuff.**

**-What did she say?**

**-Well… she might be cute as a bug’s ear, but no one calls my best pal a half portion** ” Oh… so it was my fault. I was used to girls not wanting to be with me, that wasn’t new. Bucky defending me wasn’t either, specially when I was too stubborn to walk away from a fight. But to lose a date for me…

“ **You shouldn’t have Buck…**

**-Hey, I told you, I’m with you til the end of the line pal, even if it means sending a looker home. Besides, nobody except me gets to call you names, punk.**

**-Jerk.”** I retorted, and we started laughing. Bucky hailed the bartender and ordered some booze:

“ **What are you doing? We should go ho–**

 **-Steve, it’s payday. I’ve got money, no girl and my best buddy with me. Now stop flapping your gums and drink up, tonight we’re having fun!** ”

 

That much we did! And it felt great after spending days in bed, too weak to get up and sleeping half the time.

After a couple of hours drinking, talking and laughing we decided to go home. We found our bike and were getting ready to go, steadying ourselves a bit before.

“ **Thanks Bucky.**

**-For what?**

**-For before, with Leslie. That was real swell.**

**-Don’ mention it champ. And hey! I still get to bring a muffin home!**

**-Whadidya call me??**

**-You get real cute when you’re surprised, you know that?** ” he said jokingly.

Or at least I thought he was… we were both a bit ossified, so it was kinda hard to tell. What was also hard to tell was the feeling his remark gave me… was that contentment? Happiness even?? We had had enough booze that the feeling in my belly could be butterflies from the Bucky effect (I told you, no one could resist it), or just my stomach trying not to upchuck.

We got on the bike, Buck pedaling and me at the back as usual, but since he was a tad inebriated, the ride home got real swingin’. We were all over the place, zigzagging, him letting go of the handlebar from time to time, both of us laughing like kids, until I had to grab his waist not to fall off. I felt him tense up for a split second, then relax again. When we got to the small deserted streets of our neighbourhood, he just started singing in his smooth jazzy voice. At first I thought it was that Andrews Sisters’ song, only to realize he was singing the original Yiddish version.

Nearly no one knew this, but James Buchanan Barnes wasn’t only Irish, he was also half Jew. He kept it to himself, cause he knew the cousins on his Irish side wouldn’t take too kindly to having a “kike” in the family. And also because he got enough beating from his military dad to learn how to “forget” that fact. But sometime, when he was alone or really tired, (drunk worked too), he’d slip up and have a moment of nostalgia.

I always liked it when he sang, be it some jazzy tune when he showered, or the Ave Maria the rare times he came to church with me. Or the few times we never talked about, after my mother’s death, when I cried myself to sleep. He would come in the bedroom, wipe my swollen eyes with his handkerchief, then seat on the floor, his back against the tiny bed and started softly singing some old gaelic lullaby my mum had taught us when he spent some time “away from home” (which really meant away from his dad). But I especially loved when he sang in Yiddish, as I knew how private and secret a part of him it was, and how I was the only one allowed to see it apart from his mum and sisters.

“ _Bay mir bistu sheyn, Bay mir hos tu heyn, Bay mir bistu eyner oyf der velt…_ ”

In that cool summer night, shrouded in the near darkness of the alleys, with Bucky’s voice like honey to my ears, something came over me: that “contentment”, there it was again. However this time, I allowed myself to give in to it. I let my head rest on Bucky’s back, my ear to his lungs, and it felt like his singing was resonating in me, his deep voice soothing my head which already started to ache from our night out (I had such a frail constitution back then!)

I tightened my grip around his waist ever so slightly, partly to be a bit closer to him, but also to make sure this wasn’t a dream, because it felt way too good to be true. I would have had much more trouble admitting how much I loved doing that if I had been completely sober. Yes, we’d joke and goof around getting in tickle fights like scamps, yes, we had these few unspoken moments, the singing, or the parts of teenage-hood when every boy had to know how to kiss a girl, so we said we had to “train”. And yes, sometime I would stare at him when he wasn’t looking, but I always told myself it was admiration. It wasn’t “like that”, I couldn’t be like that, God wouldn’t agree. Plus, even without the fear of God in him, it wouldn’t be said that James Barnes, son of an Irish soldier, was a fairy. But in that glorious moment, with his voice soothing me, the sound of seagulls echoing from the docks and darkness surrounding us, nothing else mattered: not his dad, not the moral, not even God’s judgment.

Because if I thought real hard about it, somewhere, deep inside, I had known for a while that Bucky was much more than a brother to me. Just basking in his soft warmth, inhaling the mixed scents of his after shave, Luckies and mothball from our tiny closet, I knew he was more than that. Because his scent was the smell of home. He finished his song and I gently nuzzled between his shoulder blades, taking advantage of the journey’s perfect last minutes.

And in that moment, I could swear I heard a happy little laugh escape him.

**Author's Note:**

> Bucky is singing "Bey Mir Bistu Sheyn" original Yiddish version:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZUVEq6NC7mM
> 
> stompers: shoes  
> dead hoofer: a bad dancer  
> hen fruits: eggs  
> ritzy: classy  
> doggy: said of someone who’s dressed smartly but is self conscious about it.  
> jolly up: to party  
> tin can: a car  
> gams: legs  
> giggle juice: alcohol, whiskey most of the time  
> cute as a bug’s ear: very cute  
> half portion: unpopular person  
> muffin: cute name to call a girl  
> ossified: drunk  
> upchuck: to throw up when you’re drunk  
> scamps: kids that could behave badly but are still hard to dislike
> 
> Last but not least, a big thank you to my pumpkin and faithful beta-reader, captain-stucky 17! I give her all the credit she deserves for the "shoving me in the shoulder playfully." sentence!


End file.
